Mum's the Word
by Reena Catheryn
Summary: When you grow up with Marge Dursley as your mother, you quickly learn that you're just a trophy. But when you find out you're a witch? You better hide that stuff from your mother. Lie, lie, lie…Mum's the word. Right now, there are no pairings for this story. It's a bit odd, even I'll admit it. But it's still interesting. Give it a try please!
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: What do you do when you have writer's block? Well I know what I do! I have started a new story! This story shall explore the possibilities of Marge Dursley's nonexistent child. I highly doubt it has ever been done, but here's how I think it would go!**

** I own nothing! Absolutely nothing!**

Marge Dursley had never been a particularly feminine woman, but that didn't mean she didn't want to be. One chilly fall day, one of her precious bull dogs passed away and Marge traveled to the pub to drink away her pain with a nice glass of Scotch. Really she never remembered much from that evening, but she met a very debonair man who called her beautiful and so she brought him to her impressive home and they pledged their love to each other. Of course, when she woke up alone the next morning, she didn't remember anything about the man or why there were glasses thrown around her bedroom. She faintly remembered some mumbo jumbo about magic, and she faintly remembered kicking him out after that, because she wasn't going to have some crazy man in her bed.

Of course less than a year later, in the lovely months of Summer, Marge had a very frail looking child to look after. For the first few months, she allowed her brother's wife Petunia to look after the thing while she cared for a new litter of English bulldogs. In fact, Auntie Petunia could not realize how one as gruff as Marge could bear a child so fair. But she was glad to have her niece around, especially with her newborn Dudley being such an unresponsive child. She loved her son dearly, but she had wanted a daughter and when Marge asked her to babysit, she was more than thrilled. She dolled up her niece and babied her to no end. Something about the little girl made Petunia particularly attached to her, though she couldn't say why.

And something about her loveliness and grace sparked an interest in her mother. Marge decided that little Bridgette could be a wonderful prize to show off, almost better than Bruiser, the trophy bulldog of the litter born the same day as her daughter. She soon trained the girl in proper etiquette and beauty and pride. Bridgette was taught to be prim and proper and proud.

"Remember the three P's Bridgette, dear," Marge would say as she escorted her daughter into another talent competition. Bridgette had quite a few talents that her mother showcased. In truth, Bridgette didn't enjoy many of them, but they pleased her mother and put her in a spot above Bruiser for a small amount of time. Bridgette loved animals, but she was rather tired of bulldogs by the time she was four years old. In truth the one talent that she did enjoy was theatre. She enjoyed acting and being on the stages that her mother had shoved her on. She was even cast as the lead in the spring play that her acting troupe put on. Granted, it was a youth troupe with no one above twelve, but that hardly mattered to Bridgette.

As she grew up pampered and spoiled, her heart grew larger. She saw the way her Aunt, Uncle and Mother treated her cousin… not the chubby one who never spoke to her… the scrawny one who looked nothing like her aunt and uncle, Harry. She didn't like the way they treated him and whenever Marge took to visiting with Aunt Petunia, she would sneak away from Dudley and visit with Harry. She always saved some of her dinner for him and sat in his closet bedroom, talking with him about the odd things that seemed to happen to them. She grew up with him, when she wasn't busy being paraded around like one of her mother's dogs.

"Harry! Pssst!" Bridgette whispered, knocking lightly on his door. She knew he was in there, since he was sent there after accidentally knocking her glass over. They were both ten and Bridgette needed to talk to him about the weird things that seemed to keep escalating. A few seconds later he opened the door and grinned at his favorite person in the world.

"Hi Bridgey!" he giggled, pulling her onto his bed and turning the light on.

"Harry, I'm so sorry about dinner. I tried to catch it, but I didn't even see you tip it over," she frowned. If there was one thing that Bridgette didn't like, it was seeing Harry get punished because of her.

"I didn't touch it," he whispered, frowning.

"It's happening to you too?" she gasped. "Lately, it's been getting worse. Weird things are happening around me that Mum and I can't explain. I swear once that I heard Mum mutter something about 'blasted magic' under her breath, but I don't think that's what she said," Bridgettte confessed quietly.

"I made one of Aunt Petunia's favorite mugs just burst! I didn't mean to and she got so angry. They started yelling about my Mum and then they sent me in here after a few whips with the belt and…and…Bridgey I'm so scared," Harry whispered lightly. His cousin nodded and pulled him into a hug. Though they were only a few weeks apart, Bridgette always felt protective over Harry and vice versa.

"Harry there's this other thing too…" Bridgette bit her lip and closed her eyes, concentrating. She heard a gasp when she opened my eyes and found Harry staring at her.

"Bridgette…what did you do to your face?" he wrinkled his nose with a giggle. She had given herself a bulldog face.

"It's all I stare at ALL day! That old grump, Bruiser, is still alive," she complained, turning my face back.

"Did you tell your Mum?" her cousin asked doubtfully.

"Harry, do you remember the way she reacted to the magician at the fair? I'm not telling her anything," Bridgette winced slightly. Her mother had gone on a rampage. She hated anything to do with hocus pocus with an absolute passion.

"Bridgette! Darling!" Aunt Petunia's voice rang out and Bridgette hugged Harry before silently slipping from the cupboard and dashing to meet her aunt.

And that was how life continued for Harry and Bridgette for the next year. They wrote letters to each other and since each of them was in charge of the mail, their adults didn't know. They helped each other cope with the odd happenings and on the day of Dudley's eleventh birthday, Bridgette visited the zoo with her aunt, uncle and cousins.

"The snake won't move!" Dudley yelled, tapping the on the glass impatiently. Bridgette rolled her eyes and looked toward Harry, whose eyes were locked with those of the Boa Constrictor.

"Come on Dudders," Aunt Petunia cooed. "Come along Bridgette," she chirped and Bridgette nodded, still distracted by Harry. To her surprise, her best friend began hissing at the snake. She stared in horror, hoping her aunt didn't notice. And then suddenly, the glass was gone and the snake was slithering out. Dudley was about to fall into the exhibit before Bridgette panicked and the glass was replaced.

"Ouch!" Dudley yelped as his face hit the glass. Screams began to echo from outside as people caught sight of the huge snake out of its enclosure.

"Harry!" Bridgette hissed as they were quickly ushered out of the zoo. "You have to be more careful," She scolded him gently. Her aunt and uncle were conversing angrily about the irresponsibility of the zoo, and it took all their effort for Harry and Bridgette to contain their giggles. When they arrived back at Privet Drive, Marge was waiting to pick up her daughter.

"Did you have a nice day?" she asked gruffly as he drove Bridgette home that evening.

"Yes, Mum. We went to the zoo," Bridgette smiled. She tried to love her mother. She tried to please her mother, but it seemed as though her mother would never feel love toward anyone or anything.

"That's good. Tomorrow, I'm taking Bruiser to the Vet in the morning. You'll stay home, alright?"

"But Mum, tomorrow is my birthday," Bridgette pouted lightly, but she was ignored. With a sigh she readied herself for bed and tucked herself in, falling asleep with dreams of a different life. Her mother was gone the next morning when she awoke and not long after serving herself breakfast, there was a knock at the door. Two oddly dressed people stood on her step, staring at her curiously.

"Hello, I am Professor Minerva McGonagall and this is my colleague, Professor Severus Snape," the older woman smiled kindly. Her hair was wrapped tightly in a bun and her face was stern, though caring.

"Oh hello," Bridgette nodded politely. "I'm afraid my Mum's not home right now, perhaps I could tell her you stopped by?"

"No, no. We're here to speak with you, Ms. Dursley," the pale man with the crooked nose frowned at her.

"Oh, do come in," Bridgette opened the door and went to the kitchen to pour tea for both of her visitors. Her mother taught her to be polite and if any visitors tried to hurt her, she was supposed to release the guard dogs from the backyard. She overheard the adults' conversation as she tried to reach the tea cups.

"What kind of muggle leaves their eleven year old child home alone?" the man hissed.

"Calm down, Severus, I'm sure she's in capable hands. It was your choice to…

"This was a mistake, I shouldn't have come. She-" he stopped when Bridgette's footsteps neared the room.

"Thank you, dear," Professor McGonagall accepted the tea and set it down. "Professor Snape and I are here to invite you to attend a very special school. We're teachers at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I am sure by now you have noticed that you are unlike other school children your age. At Hogwarts, we teach gifted young witches and wizards to use their magic properly and we educate them on our society and its policies and history," she said as she watched the eyes of the small girl widen. This was Minerva's favorite part of her job.

"Magic?" Bridgette asked quietly, worrying that her mother had figured out that she and Harry had been keeping secrets.

"Yes, Ms. Dursley, you are a witch," the man smiled, which was a rare occasion for Severus Snape.

"No, no, no, you must leave," Bridgette stood up and began to pace, gnawing on her lower lip.

"I'm sorry?" Minerva frowned. She'd seen many reactions of muggleborn and halfblood children, but this was new.

"Mum will not like you being here. Harry got beat just because Aunt Petunia suspected he used magic to break her mug!" she exclaimed, her eyes beginning to water and her heart speeding with fear.

"Petunia… Petunia Evans? Harry Potter?" the man asked, frowning deeply.

"No, no. Petunia Dursley, my aunt. I'm not sure what Harry's last name is, but he's my cousin," Bridgette nodded distractedly.

Severus' blood boiled as his eyes narrowed and began whispering quickly to Minerva. She nodded swiftly, for once agreeing with the broody man.

"Ms. Dursley, we assure you that you and your cousin shall be quite safe," she said after a moment of silent discussion. She pulled a sealed envelope from her robes and held it out. "This is your letter, one of the staff members will meet with you in one week to take you to Diagon Alley for your shopping," she said stiffly.

"Miss, Madam, Professor," Bridgette stumbled through the words, "please, my mother can't know!" she begged. Minerva frowned, but Severus answered instead.

"Of course," he nodded before turning with a large crack and disappearing. Minerva was not happy about the deceit, but she followed Severus doubtfully back to the grounds.

The letter was well hidden before Marge Dursley walked through the door with Bruiser.

"Mum's the word," Bridgette whispered before rushing to greet her mother.

**What do you think? Please review! I need to know if you'd like to know the rest of the story!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: Oh my! I've never received such an outpour of favorites, followers AND reviews so quickly! I'm very glad that you're all interested in this story and I hope it does not disappoint you. Would you rather I have seven stories, so each school year in detail? Or would you rather I have one story that breezes through all seven years? I'm sorry this chapter took longer than expected. I toured my first college yesterday so I wasn't home to write.**

Later that day, Aunt Petunia, Uncle Vernon and Dudley came over to celebrate Bridgette's Birthday. Against their better thought, they had brought Harry on the strict rule that he was to serve for the party (which Bridgette's fake school friends would attend) and speak to no one. It was the same thing every year, something that Bridgette absolutely despised. Her friends from school only followed her around because she'd won a few pageants and seemed to have a natural way with people. Some girls hung around because they knew she had connections. Some boys had even tried to woo her, despite their young age. To the girls, she said nothing. To the boys, she rolled her eyes and stuck up her nose. She was much too young to be mixed in with all that relationship business. Plus, she hadn't many males in her life that were worth looking up to. She didn't see Harry as a man. He was much too small. When the doorbell rang to signify her cousins' arrival, Bridgette pulled on her two French braids and straightened out her new party dress.

"Happy Birthday Darling!" Aunt Petunia embraced Bridgette the second she walked into the door. "Dudders, say Happy Birthday to your cousin," she pushed Dudley at Bridgette who blushed and grunted, pulling at his boring bow tie.

"Mummy, where's the TV?" he demanded rudely, walking past Bridgette. Aunt Petunia sighed and shook her head before motioning Uncle Vernon to come in with a small pile of presents for Bridgette.

"Mother says to place the presents on the table in the hall," Bridgette instructed dutifully as she had been told. Before her Aunt and Uncle could drag her around, the doorbell rang with a pair of Bridgette's classmates. She excused herself to play host, and Harry was instructed to follow her.

"Harry… did you receive a letter?" she whispered as she opened the door and nodded to her two classmates.

"Oh Bridgette! What a lovely house! Here," said Annie as she shoved her coat at Harry in disgust.

"Oh no Annemarie, I'll take that," Bridgette chimed, taking the coat from Harry and hanging it up in the hall closet. "This is my cousin Harry; he is a guest here," Bridgette informed her before escorting her toward the living room. After doing this for all the guests, she told her mother she had to run to the restroom and ran upstairs, dragging Harry with her.

"So, the letter? Harry, did you get a letter?" Bridgette questioned him anxiously.

"I've gotten several that all look the same. But Uncle Vernon won't let me open any of them. There's also a bunch of owls hanging around. It's odd Bridgie," Harry scratched his head and sighed. Bridgette pulled the letter from a secret pocket in her jumper and flashed it to him.

"Is this what it looks like?" she smiled and Harry's eyes widened. He grabbed it from her and carefully opened it.

"What is this load of rubbish?" he finally asked. Bridgette's face fell.

"Harry, this isn't a load of rubbish. It's true. Two of the professors came here this morning while Mum was away and they explained it to me. I'm sure your letter says the same thing. You can get away from Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon! We can train our magic! Aren't you the teensiest bit excited?" she bit her lip, hearing the calls of her Aunt from down the hall. She was calling angrily for Harry. "You stay here and relax; I'll tell them I've ordered you to organize some things for me. I'll bring you some food later," Bridgette sighed, leaving her bedroom and rushing down to meet her Aunt.

The party was a disaster, as far as Bridgette was concerned. Annie, Molly, and Olivia tortured Harry through the entire party. They gave Bridgette cheap hair clips and picture frame brought back from one of their parent's trips to America. They followed her around everywhere, not giving her a moment of privacy. They did everything she did, just as she did it. And they made her retell the stories of winning pageants every hour.

The party was a success, as far as Marge was concerned. The girls fawned over Bridgette and gave her adorable new hair accessories and clothes. Harry did eventually resurface, serving dessert and throwing away wrapping paper. Bridgette tried again and again to sneak Harry away and talk with him, but she was unsuccessful until the other guests began to leave.

"Bridgette, dear, did you have a nice birthday?" Aunt Petunia asked, sitting down in the living room as Bridgette cleaned up her gifts and Harry was washing the dishes from cake and ice cream.

"Yes, Aunt Petunia," Bridgette responded automatically.

"Really, darling, did you?" her Aunt replied skeptically, which was surprising to Bridgette. Bridgette thought for a moment, pursing her lips and frowning slightly. Petunia Dursley smiled. She couldn't quite explain why she'd always been especially fond of her niece. For her, it was more than the girl's talent, beauty, or loveliness. It was her very air, her very essence that attracted her Aunt. Crazily enough, Bridgette reminded Petunia of Lily when they were children, before any of that hodge podge about magic started. But there was no blood relation between Lily and Bridgette.

"Yes, Aunty. I had a lovely birthday. Perhaps I might visit you in a few days?" she asked timidly, knowing it was risky to visit Harry on his birthday.

"That's fine, Bridgette," Aunt Petunia smiled with delight before standing and rushing to Dudley, who was about to shove another piece of cake onto his plate.

"No, no, darling. We need to save room for the yummy cake I'm baking tomorrow," she sighed contentedly. It wasn't long before she was forced to usher Dudley to the car.

"Er, Happy Birthday Bridgette," Uncle Vernon said awkwardly as he left.

"Happy Birthday Bridgie. I believe you!" Harry whispered as he was pulled out of the door. Bridgette smiled to herself and turned to go back into the room to retrieve her new pajamas, a gift from Molly.

"Bridgette, I hope you enjoyed your birthday. You'll be auditioning for another show next week," Marge said as she sat on the couch with a brandy glass, Bruiser seated on her lap.

"Yes Mum, it was lovely. But actually, I was wondering if I could go to a special boarding school this year. Jenna, from school last year, goes there and she said it's wonderful. It's for gifted students," Bridgette lied easily, but stumbled a little when she mentioned Jenna. In reality, Jenna had moved to the United States, but she hoped her mother didn't remember that. Marge rarely paid attention to what her daughter said about school, but she sometimes retained unexpected information.

"Oh yes, Jenna. Well, did you get accepted into this school?" Marge asked, actually considering. A school for gifted students. Now, wasn't that an idea? She could escort her daughter off for an entire school year while still being able to brag about her.

"Yes, there was a letter in the mail, but I've misplaced it," Bridgette gnawed on her lip. This was where her lie became a little unbelievable. Bridgette Dursley never misplaced anything. Her mother didn't seem to notice, ideas and visions of a child free home exciting her.

"Well perhaps we'll get a visit from the teachers. I'm sure they can explain a little more about this school. We'll see, Bridgette," she said gruffly, which in Marge language meant… as long as it's free and convenient.

"Thank you Mum," Bridgette smiled and bowed her head, the most affection she was ever allowed to give her mother. As she climbed the stairs to her room that night, she smiled to herself. Bridgette had achieved the impossible. Now she just had to send an owl with her reply and she would be off.

~MTW~

For Harry, things weren't as simple. He believed what the letter from Hogwarts said. But he didn't understand how he was going to reply. There were plenty of owls around Privet Drive, but he had been locked in the house and the letters had all been burned. The day the house drowned in letters, each that mysteriously disappeared as Uncle Vernon tried to grab it from him, both Vernon and Dudley had wanted to leave. Aunt Petunia had refused, saying that Bridgette was due to visit soon and wouldn't be able to find them if they were gone. On the day before his birthday, Bridgette visited. The letters, strangely, did not come. The owls decreased greatly in number, with just two left hovering around the house. The second the bell rang, Aunt Petunia sprung to action.

"Hello Aunt Petunia!" Bridgette's voice trilled from the hallway. Harry heard her, as he was currently locked in his cupboard under the stairs.

"Hello Bridgette! Marge, lovely to see you as always. You're welcome inside for some tea. I thought Bridgette and Dudley could play out in the garden," came Aunt Petunia's sour tone. Harry heard footsteps and suddenly the lock on his door was working.

"Boy, you go outside in the garden with Dudders and Bridgette. I have no chores inside the house for you today and my niece seems to be strangely fond of you. If you so much as speak one disrespectful thing, you'll be without supper for a week," Aunt Petunia hissed. It hadn't escaped her that Bridgette often found pleasure in sneaking away with Harry. She knew the friendship was harmless. She would make sure it was harmless by allowing it to occur where she could keep a secret eye on it. The more they snuck away, the more dangerous their friendship became. She watched carefully as Harry timidly joined the group of children outside. Dudley was sitting on the bench, kicking up dirt. Bridgette was sitting on the ground, the way her mother taught her instead of Indian style, and Harry had plopped down across from her. With a sigh, Petunia brought tea into the living room with speak with her oh-so-pleasant sister in law.

"Happy Almost Birthday Harry," Bridgette smiled softly as Dudley pulled out a personal video game machine and started pressing buttons furiously. She began to pluck small daisies and string them together in a chain.

"Thanks. We haven't gotten any letters in a while. I think they might have given up on me," Harry sighed sadly, putting his chin in his hands and looking at the ground. Bridgette shook her head without stopping.

"No, don't think that. I'm sure you'll hear from them again soon, Harry," she insisted in a positive voice.

"Whatever you say Bridgette," Harry agreed. She was always right. And she was always positive. There was just something about his cousin that always made him feel safe and reassured.

"What are you two on about?" Dudley complained as his game died and he sat down on the ground with his cousins.

"Dear cousin Dudley…" Bridgette rolled her eyes. "Tomorrow is Harry's birthday," she reminded him. Usually, Dudley would have grunted and walked away. Sometimes, he even went as far as to make fun of Harry. But with Bridgette around, he simply nodded and sat there, pulling at weeds in the ground.

"I was just discussing with him what I should give him as a present," she said again to Dudley.

"Give him a present? Why should he need a present?" Dudley frowned, glaring at Bridgette.

"Because everyone deserves a present on their birthday, Dudley," Bridgette explained patiently. She didn't blame him for being so gruff. How could you be Vernon Dursley's son and possess emotions? It was almost impossible.

"Oh right," he shrugged, turning his attention back to the weeds.

The three cousins sat in silence for a while, Dudley pulling weeds as Bridgette chained daisies and Harry watched the clouds pass.

"Will you two promise me something?" Bridgette said suddenly, looking up from her finished daisy crown. Dudley gave her an odd look. He rarely ever associated with either of his cousins, especially with Potter, but now she was including him. All the years growing up thinking Potter was a no good piece of filth because that's how his parents treated him. But Bridgette, whom his mother had always adored, seemed to think Harry was worth something. And Bridgette was also very accepting of Dudley, which was something he had rarely taken notice of.

"Anything, Bridgie," Harry answered earnestly. The younger two turned to look at their cousin. Harry wasn't sure what Bridgette was up to. She'd never liked Dudley. No one had ever liked Dudley. Dudley was a rotten prat, and had always been awful to Harry.

"Yeah sure," Dudley finally answered uncertainly.

"No matter what happens in the future. When we grow up, we'll grow apart. But let's not waste anymore of these years being ridiculous just because our parents were. Let's be cousins, like cousins are meant to be," she said, looking at both of her boy cousins. One face wore only confusion while the other wore a look of regret and confusion. "Please, for me," she added, mostly to Harry.

"Alright," Harry agreed, giving her a one-armed hug.

"Dudley…" Bridgette tried to approach him softly.

"You're both bonkers," he grunted, standing up and beginning to walk off.

"Dudley Dursley!" Bridgette yelled, standing and stomping her foot. He immediately stopped and turned around with a glare.

"What?!" he demanded.

"I don't care whether you're my cousin. I don't care whether your parents hate Harry. I don't care whether or not I'm supposed to hate Harry. I don't care whether up until this point you've been a good for nothing, spoiled brat!" she ranted, her cheeks turning pink with rage. "I am telling you now that I am willing to forget all that. Can't you see that Harry is a decent person? More than decent, really. More than you've ever been to him. Harry is my cousin too. And Harry is my friend. And if you'd like to shape up and be a decent person, then you're welcome to have a friend as well," Bridgette's tone simmered. Dudley looked like he was about to say something before his mom called all three of them in. He grumbled something unintelligible before turning and stalking into the house.

"What just happened?" Harry asked.

"I think he's agreed to be a bit nicer to you," Bridgette grinned with a wink. When all three of them headed inside, Marge was leaving and Petunia was holding Bridgette's coat. As she ordered the two boys to clean up for dinner she walked Bridgette into the hallway.

"I don't know what you think you're trying to accomplish with my sister's mental son, Bridgette. But he is no concern of yours and you shouldn't associate yourself with such strange people," Petunia said, trying to be harsh as she helped her niece into her coat.

"Aunt Petunia, you know that I respect you and I love you. With that said, your warnings will not stop me from being kind to Harry. Whatever bad blood you had was between your sister and yourself. Don't take it out on Harry. He's grown up all alone," Bridgette said simply before giving her Aunt a kiss on the cheek and running to her mother's car.

Bridgette Dursley was definitely an odd child.


	3. Apologies

My Dearest Readers,

Let me start this off by saying I have not abandoned you nor forgotten you. This letter is going to go as a new "chapter" for each of my stories so it will be generic. For my less popular stories, "Mum's the Word" and "Ghosted" I'm looking for a co-author. I say co-author because I'm not willing to relinquish my power over my ideas, but I need a fresh perspective. I don't plan on abandoning them though, just need to figure out where to go. My more popular stories "Silence" and "Bumblebee and Bellabear" are currently still being updated. I'm working on the next chapters, just being slow. I'm sorry it seems flakey. I'm a senior in high school and graduation is next week so I'm finishing final exams and saying goodbyes and its been very hectic!

I encourage you to go to my profile and check out my other stories while you wait (I've got a few very nice one shots. And I'm thinking of starting a Les Mis Enjonine fic soon!) actually, I'm begging you to read my other stories and not my leave me as I promise not to leave you!

Most Fondly,  
Reena Catheryn


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